Broken Ties
by DRUMLINEpaco
Summary: These delicate wings... Angst, shounen ai mentioned, Airshipping. Generally not a happy fic. Original character centric, but no Sues.
1. 1 Wings

**April 2005.**

&&&

These delicate wings.

_"Let me go!" cried a young trainer._

These delicate wings, now torn to a nearly unrecognizable state, are stained with your blood.

_The gang of nameless Rocket grunts that had seized the boy upon his exit of Rock Tunnel threw him back and forth between them roughly, snatching Pokéballs off his belt with each push._

Your eyes. The same eyes that saw light only hours ago are now dark. They stare straight ahead. Past me, through me...through my soul.

_One Rocket fell to the ground--the result of a violent tackle from Wyr's Butterfree. "The hell?" The man stood back up, immediately throwing a punch in the bug Pokémon's direction._

Your chirping voice. Your cheerful tone always brought me warmth.

_"Mightyena, go!"_

Will I never hear your laughing song again?

_The other Rockets followed suit, each throwing a Mightyena or Houndoom of their own. The young boy, physically drained and badly hurt, could barely move._

All I could do was watch, Butterfree. I wanted to help you. I wanted to save you. All I could do was watch, Butterfree...

_The restrained Wyr struggled against the Rocket's grip on his arms. "Butterfree-" he began, but was cut off by a swift blow to the temple and the sound of the ripping of duct tape._

Butterfree...

_The duct tape muffled Wyr's cries of protest. A Rocket knelt down in front of Wyr, blowing cigarette smoke directly into his eyes and watching them water. "You gonna cry?" he taunted. His comrades sniggered._

I felt it, Butterfree. I've never felt it so strongly before. I felt...

_"Let's show this punk what we do to stubborn Pokémon like this ratty bug here," The smoker yanked at Butterfree by his antennae. Uproarous laughter followed._

...fear.

_The Mightyena and Houndoom pack leapt forward._

I was powerless, Butterfree. Powerless.

_The Rockets stood aside, laughing and pointing at the slaughter before them. Three Rockets held Wyr in place. Blood drenched the rocky ground. Delicate wings were ripped by jagged teeth, and soft skin gnawed through as if it were paper._

You will rest soon. We're almost there, don't worry. Soon, your soul will rest.

_The criminal gang took off as suddenly as they came, taking with them four of Wyr's Pokéballs. Wyr didn't move. He couldn't move._

But they...

_"Butterfree."_

...they will never rest again.

&&&

**AN.** I'll need as many reviews as I can get to make it through this fic. Making my day is just a click away.


	2. 2 Intimidation

**AN.** Please bear with me and all the jumping around in time. This is the most effective way I could think of to do this, and I rather like it :D

**September 1988.**

&&&

Before him was a grand battlefield...the widely-recognized court patterns drawn not in the usual chalk or spray-paint, but embedded into the solid concrete ground in fine marble. Any doubts Jirarudan had about Giovanni's power up until now immediately vanished. Though he had never been in a Pokémon battle in his life, the Collector found himself taken aback by the battlefield. It was surrounded on all sides by walls too tall to climb. Two small balconies, one on the opposite side of the field from the other, jutted out of the intimidating walls; it was clear that each of the Trainers were to stand here. It was a beautiful sight indeed, and Jirarudan found himself wishing that he had walked in during a battle, so he could witness this architectural beauty for all that it was made to be. His apparent daydream was cut short by a somewhat menacing voice.

"You do not appear to be a Trainer."

Jirarudan, slightly shocked, looked up to where the voice had come from. A man had emerged from a different room, now standing at the edge of one of the balconies.

"If you do not wish to battle me for the Earth Badge, what is it you are here for, Collector?"

Forgetting for a moment that his robes had signaled this omnipotent-sounding address, the young man fumbled with his thoughts before he could organize them into coherent words.

"I...I seek an audience with the leader of this Gym." Jirarudan had not expected to be so intimidated by the man. After all, no one had ever intimidated him in his life.

The dark figure above smirked. "Very well. Enter the doors to your left," he said very simply, and disappeared back into the darkness from whence he came. Jirarudan glanced left. In all his distraction of this architectural wonder before him, he had taken no notice of two rich mahogany doors with golden handles. The doors did not match the otherwise metallic and dark structures surrounding it, but they nonetheless seemed to blend in. Jirarudan swallowed a lump in his throat he had not previously put any thought to and entered the foreboding, doors ahead.

The room was far larger than it needed to be, the walls tall enough to hold two stories, but instead surrounded a single desk, clearly made from the same wood as the doors. The dark figure was seated in a black leather chair behind the desk, stroking a lithe and beautiful Persian beside him, and gestured silently for the Collector to have a seat in one of the two simpler dark red chairs on the opposite side of his empty workspace. Jirarudan sat, and cleared his throat once more.

"Giovanni, I presume?"

"Yes," the addressed nodded. "And your name, Collector?"

"Jirarudan Kaga, sir." He suddenly realized that he was unable to remove his gaze from Giovanni's dark, intense eyes. Something about this man just eminated absolute power. Had Jirarudan known nothing about him, this man would still intimidate the young Collector. He found this simply terrifying, and his voice was far less clear that he had originally intended it to be when he said, "I am returning to my...hobby...my Collecting, that is..." _What's wrong with me!_ he screamed internally. With some difficulty, he forced himself to be articulate. "For the past three years, I have been living...a much different life than that of a Collector, and I wish very much to return to my former occupation." He cleared his throat for the third time that evening. "Your Pokémon and your Gym have a reputation that thrives in every Region of this world. And for lack of a better way to phrase it, rumours have been circling that tell me you have obtained the DNA of Mew, and wish to produce a clone."

Giovanni's ever-present smirk seemed to grow more intense. "Yes, that is correct. I have founded a new laboratory to further research the discovery." He leaned forward slightly. "Do you wish to Collect the resulting cloned Pokémon from me? For if you do, that will be an exceedingly difficult task and the cost would be far greater than you could imagine."

"No! No, sir," Jirarudan stammered out. _I sound ridiculous. Absolutely illiterate. He probably thinks I'm entirely unworthy of his presence, and won't want to put up with my company a second time..._ Jirarudan paused at his own thoughts. _Wait, what? A second time? I won't need to converse with this man after today, I imagine. Why would a thought like that even-_

"-forgive me for interrupting your daydream, Jirarudan dear, but I don't have all day."

_What did he just-?_ the Collector's face flushed, and he was thankful that this room was not exceedingly well-lit. "I apologize," he spat out, rather quickly. "I wish to discuss the location of your discovery. If there are any fossils...or anything else of historical significance remaining at the site, I would like very much to make it my own."

The man behind the desk nodded in agreement. "Of course." He then did something rather unexpected. He stood up from his black chair and walked around his desk, taking a seat in the second red chair beside the Collector. Jirarudan's face was now pinker than before, for reasons he could not explain. Out of fear, perhaps. "I have not shared information with the media, nor with anyone I have not met or do not trust-"

"-oh!" Jirarudan interrupted. "No, I would not expect you to, I will pay any price that you-"

"-but I have no hesitations about discussing it with you."

Jirarudan's heart seemed to miss a beat or two entirely. _He trusts me with such information? After my awkward first impression?_ He blinked a few times, and leaned one ear slightly closer to the man who was now sitting beside him in questioning. "N..no hesitations?"

Giovanni's smirk widened enough to barely reveal his gleaming white teeth momentarily, before answering, "Something about you tells me that you have no one to tell. That," he continued, reaching out his hand, "and your pink cheeks scream how intimidated you are." His hand rested under Jirarudan's chin, his index finger barely making contact, but it was enough for Jirarudan to lift his head up, now staring directly into those piercing eyes..."I don't need to tell you that you would do well to not upset me."

"No, sir," the Collector said, doing his damn best to speak clearly with such a powerful man just inches from his face. "I would...not want to do that," he managed to choke out.

Giovanni let out a soft, dark chuckle.

"You are an excellent capture."

Now, the young Collector was certain he was hearing things, or perhaps that he had gone mad and was hallucinating this entire sequence of events. He tried to speak, but only one word escaped his throat, "...sir?" His palms were sweating, and he knew not what to do with his composure. Giovanni's eyes narrowed.

"You would do well to call me Giovanni, Jirarudan dear." His hand now took a firmer hold on Jirarudan's chin, pulling the young man's face towards his own.

The Collector's eyes unconsciously closed as their lips met in the most terrifying, wonderful kiss Jirarudan had ever experienced.


	3. 3 Familiarity

**April 2005**

White light dissipated to reveal a pale face. A man's face. She wanted to reach out and touch that face, that familiar face. _Who are you?_ she asked. The face only smiled softly. His blonde hair...was it blonde? There were hints of soft pale greens, giving his familiar hair an almost grey yellowgreen colour. _Like my hair..._

He wore robes--a barely celadon aqua colour that she could not quite make out. His body below his face was blurry, distorted, as if in a distant memory. The man seemed to be getting further away, but he was not walking. _No...no, come back!_ Ixion tried to shout, but heard nothing. _Who are you!_ The man just closed his eyes, still barely smiling, as his figure softly transformed into a white silhouette.

The silhouette danced in front of the ocean blues behind it. Arms became wings, a long tail emerged, until the figure was no longer that of a man's. The white figure seemed to evaporate, as Ixion opened her eyes.

The young girl found herself staring at the ceiling of her small home. "Not again," she whispered to herself. _How many times have I had this dream? How long has it been since the last time?_

With a sigh, she forced the dream out of her mind. She had no way of knowing who the man in the dream was, so she thought it best not to worry about it. Picking up a hairbrush and beginning her battle with her pale silvergreen morning hair, she walked to her bedroom window, stealing a glance outside. Her window faced due south, overlooking the popular fishing docks of Lavender Town. Between her home and the docks dwelled a lake where no fishermen sat. This peaceful lake was where Ixion raised and bred her Pokémon.

Splash. A white dorsal fin teased the lake's glassy surface, red and orage ripples of the sunrise's reflection circling outward, tagging the shorelines. Ixion smiled, putting her brush down and affixing her black headband behind her sideswept bangs.

After changing into her casual jeans and small black top, Ixion made her way to the edge of the lake. She could call for Tides, but there was no need. If Ixion stood there for any amount of time, her little girl would come splashing.

The same white dorsal fin crested the surface again, this time followed by another as the snakelike figure swam towards the Breeder on the shore. Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, a massive blast of water came shooting from the lake, missing Ixion by inches. Following the blast emerged a familiar face, laughing. Or at least, laughing as best a Gyarados can.

Ixion rolled her eyes, but couldn't help the smirk teasing at her lips. "Tides, you crazy girl."

Ixion stroked the dragon's teal green crest softly. She turned around to take in the Lavender morning air. Few people were awake, just a few people seen entering and exiting the Pokémon Tower, paying respects to their deceased Pokémon. Though the Tower was a gloomy landmark to have in the town, Lavender was still a happy peaceful place that many travelers came through, seeking rest after long treks through Rock Tunnel or the day's journey from Fuschia City through pathways and fishing docks. Because there were so many travelers and so few people living here, the town was full of mainly inns, shops, and Pokémon Centers. It was always interesting to go to a traveler's restaurant and meet new people.

While glancing over the town's early morning activity, Ixion noticed a boy leaving the Pokémon Tower that she thought she recognized. She called Tides back to her Pokéball and made her way towards the boy to get a closer look.

He looked a mess. He had either taken a nasty fall or had just been roughed up good, Ixion couldn't tell from first glance. The boy turned north, walking briskly and almost angrily. Ixion had to quicken her pace to a jog to catch up to him.

_Is that...no way..._ Ixion finally recognized the face from her past.

"Wyr?" she called, but the boy ignored her. _Maybe it's not him..._ "WYR! Wyr, that's you, isn't it!"

His brisk stride halted only for a moment, long brown jacket flowing past his ankles once. The brand new bandana that Ix was used to seeing was not neat and tidy as it usually was, but in fact looked quite tattered. Wyr's usual jetblack hair was full of frays and split ends, as if it had not been washed in days. He looked like he had come straight out of Rock Tunnel.

_Then why is he heading north, back towards it?_

Wyr's glare softened momentarily. "Ixion."

Ixion grinned and threw her arms around her best childhood friend. "Wyr, I haven't seen you since...I don't even remember! How've ya been? What have you-"

"-I have to go," Wyr interrupted. With that, he turned back towards the unforgiving cavern that had only spit him out an hour ago.

"Wyr!" Ixion started to follow him, but slowed herself to a stop. _What happened to him?_ she thought, worried. _He's...always been happy to see me..._

She stood her ground, a light breeze teasing at her silvery green hair, and watched Wyr Katsaku storm him way back to Kanto's most terrifying darkness.

&&&

**AN.** Review, review, review, pleeeease! -


	4. 4 Desire

**AN - Warning.** There is limeish yaoi in this chapter. If that bothers you, don't effing read it.

**September 1988**

There was something that felt slightly criminal about lying on the ruby red sheets that had clearly been freshly tucked in. It was either that, or the fact that Jirarudan had another man on top of him for the first time in his life, and for some reason, he had no desire to push him away.

The situation was a new awakening for Giovanni as well, in more ways than just one. Until now, he had seen women from the neck down as potentially being able to satisfy his primal cravings as a member of the male race. Not only had he never looked at a man in such a way before, but for the first time, it was not only the body that Boss Rocket desired.

The kisses and movements were calm ones. Strong, yes, but not overzealous or scrambling in any way. Jirarudan ran his hands down the older man's arms, lightly tracing his finernails down to his wrist and hands, sending a shiver down Giovanni's spine. He responded with a passionate nuzzle, and traced his tongue from the Collector's ear, down his neck, to his shoulder, slowly moving the garment aside as he went. Giovanni's desire for control was evident in his mannerisms...he climbed on top of his new lover, declaring his position of superiority, and tugged at the bottom of Jirarudan's robe, suggesting it be removed. The man complied, and squirmed his way out of his formal robes as best he could in his position. He felt his face turn pink..._God, I cannot believe he makes me feel this way!_ he thought to himself in shock.

His breath quickened further as he noticed Giovanni's orange slacks sliding to the floor.

Giovanni felt a burning in his heart...a feeling he was entirely unfamiliar with. He had felt lust, he had felt desire...both of these were evident, yes, but something else was present that seemed to erase anything outside the bedroom from his mind. He liked this feeling. _I shan't let you go,_ he told himself firmly.

Jirarudan, in the meantime, was slipping into another world. As he had previously considered (but now was entirely certain), Giovanni was the the first human whose confidence overshadowed his own. _I don't think I could say 'no' to this man if I wanted to.._ he started to think, but cut off by another firm kiss from Giovanni, accompanied now by a rough hand grasping the back of his head. _Oh God, don't let go..._

Giovanni did not let go. He did, however, break the kiss, and waited for Jirarudan to open his eyes. His eyes opened, and Giovanni was taken aback by their bold indigo colour, though it was clear that Jirarudan still felt entirely glazed over. Giovanni leaned to whisper in Jirarudan's ears.

"Jirarudan," he began, sending shivers down the Collector's spine. "Let me have you." It was clear to Jirarudan that the man had little or no experience on asking for anything without it being a simple demand. However, he saw this as more undeniable proof that Giovanni was an insanely powerful man...a man who got what he wanted, when he wanted. _And he wants me?_ The young man realized that he could hear himself breathing very heavily. _Do I dare question him, or myself?_

"Yes," was all he managed to whisper back, before he found himself overwhelmed by Giovanni's body, warm against his own, and a deep, passionate kiss...

&&&

**AN.** The more reviews, the more I'll write... :D


	5. 5 Pursuit

**April 2005**

&&&

Wyr was close now. Nothing outwardly told him so, but he could feel it. _A little further,_ he thought, _I'll be on them soon… _He tore across the terrain with inhuman fury. His eyes were wild and unblinking, as though afraid they would miss some crucial detail.

Wyr had started tracking the Rockets from the point he had lost them, following in the direction in which he had seen them leave. He had shuddered when he passed it. The rain that now battered the mountain trail above Rock Tunnel hadn't washed the blood away, and the sight of it only served to further infuriate him. Fortunately for Wyr, one of the Rockets (Wyr assumed it was the one who had blown the smoke in his face) wasn't careful about discarding his cigarette butts. Every five minutes or so he would pass a new one, and he would know he was on the right track.

Thoughts of Ixion drifted into his mind as he ran along a likely path. She sure had grown. Truthfully, he had not recognized her at first. How long _had_ it been since he last saw her? He regretted not stopping to talk to her. He regretted not returning her hug. Most of all, he regretted not asking for her help. Catching himself, he shook those thoughts from his head. _Focus, Wyr,_ he thought. _Focus on the task at hand._ With that, he quickened his pace with a new fever.

It was night when he saw the glow of a fire in the distance. Thinking he may have finally found his quarry, his head filled with images of Butterfree, and the weariness of the day's running melted away.

He crept silently along the rocks as he approached, staying out of sight of the fire. As he neared, he saw the shadows of figures being cast on the stone walls, and the sounds of canine-like Pokémon scuffling while people, presumably their trainers, laughed and joked.

Wyr's body and mind grew tence like a steel trap. _Could this be them?_

He moved with caution, straining not to make a sound and hoping that he wasn't upwind of the canine Pokémon. The fire was situated in the center of a large clearing, encircled by enourmous boulders, the smallest of which about twice the size of Wyr. He silently crept up behind one of the boulders and peered around it at the camp.

Wyr's whole body stiffened as he beheld the same Rocket members that had assaulted him one night ago. Their Houndoom and Mightyena fought over the meat of some other freshly killed Pokémon.

He retreated to the darkened side of the boulder and pressed his back against it, fighting the urge to scream out as the memories came back and the rage boiled up inside of him. His mind flooded with thoughts of what he should do next. He knew they had his Pokémon, but how was he going to get them back? With only one of his Pokémon remaining at his belt he was hopelessly outnumbered. And once he did get the Pokémon back, what would happen next? Wyr's head swarmed like an angry hive, good and bad ideas alike shot back and forth until finally, something inside of him grew tired of inaction.

Wyr watched, horrified, as his body moved of its own accord. His hand drew the six inch hunting knife from a hidden place under his pant leg. _WHAT AM I DOING!_ Wyr screamed at himself. His body rounded the boulder, locked eyes on the nearest Rocket… and Wyr didn't think anymore.

&&&

**AN.** This chapter was written mostly by James, but he insists that I upload it with the rest of the story. Any Wyr-centric chapters will be written or at least outlined by James so I can properly get into his head x3.

Please reviewwwww!


End file.
